


Anything Could Happen

by CrimsonDelighted



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (1963), Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Doctor Who, F/M, Masturbation, Mind Games, Teen Angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-22
Updated: 2013-03-22
Packaged: 2017-12-06 02:46:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/730678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrimsonDelighted/pseuds/CrimsonDelighted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is my first fic. It's basically musing on events of Amy's Choice. A bit of Amy's back story with a view to carrying it into a story based around The Almost People.<br/>It got away from me a bit, but I enjoyed writing this. It's sad and rude at the same time I think, and became more romantic than I anticipated, but I think it says something about Amy and Rory's early relationship.<br/>I like playing around with the idea of the Dark Doctor. It's Loveslashangst's fault.<br/>My other stuff is much darker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anything Could Happen

**"And now he's left you with me. Spooky old not-to-be-trusted me. Anything could happen."**

 

And it did. Or did it? The Dream Lord visits Amy whilst she's lying on the floor in a icy TARDIS.

Amy has an image of the plump squat Dream Lord dressed in a satin robe, looking at Amy with a wicked glint in his eye before becoming a hazy memory of being caressed in the darkness. Her eyes are closed but her heart beats fast. The feel of alien hands on her body seems heightened, exaggerated. She can't focus enough to move her arms to push the intruder away, as if she'll wake up any minute. Quick, soft, hands undress her and clever fingers explore her pale skin.

But that couldn't be real could it? It didn't really happen. Surely. She has absolutely no idea any more.

Then, to her embarrassment, she sees what the Dream Lord has already viewed of her life.

He's seen some of the things she used to do when she was alone. 

All those dirty little secrets.

He's just never used that information to it's full advantage. Until now.

 

A fifteen year old Amy lies on her bed and pretends to do her maths homework. She still bears the bruises from a fight at school. She lost a chunk of her fiery red hair that time. She doesn't fit in and has no intention of trying. She can't wait for the time when she's free.

She waits for the click of the front door and the purr of the car engine.

Great.

She won't be back for a while.

This is Amy's time. No one telling her she's wrong or mad.

She turns up the radiator, takes off her pullover, and lies on the bed. Then she hitches up her skirt, and pulls down her knickers.

She sits low against the headboard, legs open. Her eyes settle on one of her most successful drawings of the Doctor. The rest are in her old suitcase under the bed. She didn't want it to look like she was obsessed.

Her long piano player's fingers rub gently against her folds and she slowly smiles as the moisture builds. Her fingers become wet, glistening in the sunlight that streams through her bedroom window. Warmth gathers between her legs and she arches her back. She teases her clit, until the pressure makes her feel she'll burst.

Her Maths book slides to the floor with a thunk.

"Doctor! Oh God, Doctor!"

She tries to muffle the sound by biting a pillow, but she was definitely quite loud that time. Too loud in fact to hear her aunt creep back in and make a phone call.

That'll be psychiatrist number four then. She'll have to be sneakier next time.

 

Sixteen year old Amy pretends to do an art project in her room.

At this point, Amy was having a bit of a separation from Rory because he was getting a particularly hard time from his classmates for seeing her. She wanted him to pass his exams and she cared for him more than she would admit, so she waited for him.

She hears a clunk and looks out of the window.

Her aunt has got into the car.

Amy murmurs.

"I wonder where he's hiding? He should be here by now."

Sure enough, the door clicks open, closes again, and footsteps come up the stairs.

It's Jeff. The good looking one.

He often sneaked in to see her. He won't be seen out with her because the cool kids deemed her to be pretty but weird, so he goes over to her aunt's house to practise the moves he'll make on other girls instead. Amy is glad of the attention, and hopes against hope that he'll find the magic button this time. He never did.

Then the doctor came back and she overhears him telling Jeff to delete his internet history. She smiles to herself. She knows exactly what kinky things turned him on. Stuff that would make your eyes water. He watched dvds that would have made the local girls uncomfortable, and would have certainly made them think twice about dating him. Jeff would never actually do the extreme bit of course. He was like everyone else in Leadworth, afraid of doing something different.

She saw his entire film collection, watching through her fingers, hearing the inevitable moans and crude language that went with it. The films become boring in the end, especially when their owner was so inept. He wouldn't even let her show him what worked for her either, his teenage ego taking it as a slur on his sexual prowess.

She only saw Jeff whilst she was having a bit of a separation from Rory anyway. He was getting a particularly hard time from his classmates for seeing her. She wanted him to pass his exams and she cared for him more than she would admit, so she finished with him.

 

**She hoped he'd wait for her. He always would.**


End file.
